The good old days

The moment we took the bend near the Lighthouse Hotel and the Dutch Fort became visible through the long stretch of coconut trees, I was on top of the world. The stereo was playing Phil Collins classic 'Take, Take Me Home'. With the joy, the eagerness of a child running to its mother's arms, I took in the old familiar surroundings.

The city of Galle lay ahead of me in all its beauty. So many things had changed since I last came this way; still, it was my "home" where I was born, where I grew up, where I spent the happiest days of my life.

This was the one ritual I looked forward to in April every year: visiting my grandparents for the New Year.It was the one day on which I could be completely myself: gorge on all Grandma's delicacies made especially for us, do the craziest of things and still get away with it, play the fool with my little cousins without being mocked at...I would have all the freedom I ever wanted.

I revelled in the thought of having a cold well bath, a drink of "thambili", a scrumptious lunch replete with typical village food, followed by a stroll through the luxuriant greenery. I couldn't or rather I wouldn't ask for more.

Being the eldest of their stock of grandchildren and having been brought up by them since we were born, my brother and I are naturally our grandparents' favourites. So attached were we to Grandma that we used to call her "Amma" while our own mother was "Ammi" till we were old enough to realize the difference.

Granny spoiled us through and through, protected us from Grandpa's fits of anger, cheered us up when we were feeling down and taught us all our nursery rhymes. I loved to hear her sing. Bedtime was never a bore with all her fairy tales. She was my strongest ally and biggest confidante, the best friend I never had.

Grandpa, on the other hand, was never the demonstrative type. Much as he loved us, he always kept his distance. I guess that was because he believed if he was too indulgent, we would lose respect for him. But we the little ones respected him anyway. We feared him too. His hot temper was legendary.

That never stopped me from bugging him though. Apart from being his pet, I knew the most he would do was to run around the house, brandishing his fist at me. Of course, I always got the better of him! There was something special about the rough, rugged way he dealt with us.

Seeing them so old and frail now, I wondered just how fast time had passed. It seemed like yesterday when I fell asleep on Grandma's lap while listening to her stories or played hide-and-seek with Grandpa to avoid a sound thrashing. It also made me feel guilty. Here they were still waiting on us when we should be looking after them.

The day ended all too soon. Playing "big sister" to that incorrigible lot of cousins, I'd happily lost count of time. The one thing I hated about these visits was saying good-bye. Rude as it would seem to others, I always handled it the best possible way I could: took off in a mighty hurry to avoid making a scene.

As we drove past the city limits, tears welled up in my eyes. If only I could turn back time! I longed to run back to that life I left behind in search of greener pastures. A life which was so simple and peaceful, full of love and happiness, warmth and sincerity. I wished I could kneel at Grandma's feet and tell her about all the hypocrisy, the callousness, the superficiality, the injustice in that wild world, how very tired I was of all of 'em.

But with that came also the painful realisation that I was not her "little brat" anymore. I've put down new roots. Daunting as it may be, I have to live the life I've chosen. No Gram, I'm not gonna let you down.
- Granddaughter.

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